


DC Collected Prompts

by RenaRoo



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 14,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4842281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fanfic prompts from my tumblr~</p><p>[No Longer Updated]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trouble

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when they told him he had a visitor. Steph, Cass, Dick, Barbara – he hadn’t really planned that far ahead. Who was supposed to get him out of trouble if he ever admitted he’d taken it too far.

Of course, the trick was that Tim would never admit that he took it too far. He could handle everything right to the point where he couldn’t anymore. It was part of his supposed charm.

And that was when he saw her stroll in, watched the way she held her shoulders high, carried a briefcase under one arm. She looked all serious business.

And pissed. Her face was distinctly pissed.

Tim took just a moment to glance over his neon orange jumper and cuffs before raising his cuffed hands sheepishly and forcing a smile, a small wave.   


Tam sat down across the table from him, smacked the briefcase down between them.

“Mr. Drake-Wayne.”

“Miss Fox.”

They both fell quiet after that – Tamara opening her briefcase and shuffling things around inside of it. Tim peered around a little, could see the stacks of legal documents and the brandishing of the Wayne Enterprises emblem. In a foreign country that didn’t like him very much, both were sights for sore eyes.

“My Berlin adventures caught up with me,” Tim tried to explain almost innocently. “It’s a big misunderstanding.”

“Well,” Tam said thickly, not even bothering to look at Tim directly, “ _big_ is certainly one of the words my father used.”

“As in…”

“Big fat idiot,” she snapped.

Tim frowned, squinting a bit at her. “Lucius didn’t say that… did he?”

“No, but he wanted to. I’m paraphrasing – you’re in a lot of trouble, Tim!” Tam groaned, rubbing at her face. “I shouldn’t have even come myself. Should have sent someone so I could keep running the company for you and Bruce and Daddy.”

He couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow. “But…?”

“But,” Tam sighed, shutting the briefcase after securing the papers she wanted. She shook her head at him and laughed despite herself. “I had to see  you again.”

Tim’s smile spread from ear to ear, he could just _feel_ it.   



	2. Not for Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BatCat. Selina has to turn down favors sometimes.

Living a life without regrets is harder than it sounds. Selina should know – she’s chosen to live without thought or care toward a lot of hurt she’s witnessed, a lot of hurt she’s caused.   


Getting close to Batman – to _Bruce –_ is never really supposed to be one of those things. Mostly because before, getting close to Batman never required being close to Bruce. It was a game of Cat and Mouse.   


She liked it that way. Liked the old days when she got away from him.   


Now things aren’t that simple.   


She knows too much, has to keep her guard up. Can’t let things slip because things are rarely only _her_ secret or _his_ anymore.

It’s complicated. And sometimes the only cold comfort she can take when she sees Bruce Wayne’s arms curled around someone else on every tabloid is that _they_ don’t know. _She_ knows. Not them.

And that sort of pettiness was supposed to be long behind her.   


She’s keeping her distance. Letting him figure things out. He’s not been back from the dead that long, after all. Old flames, no matter how bright, probably complicate matters for him. Selina understands. Even when she doesn’t.

So when Oswald’s squwaking something awful in his showy club and she, as some perverted guest of honor, is walking around and letting him ramble, she can’t help but be taken off guard when she hears the name _Bruce Wayne_ being brought into another nefarious Penguin plot rather than _Batman.  
_

Doing a double take, Selina stares at Oswald – an old friend, an older enemy – and can’t help but drop into a more defensive face.

His eyebrows raise over his ludicrous monocle.   


“There a problem, m’dear?” he asks, sharp teeth shining.   


“Did you say this involved Bruce Wayne? I thought you wanted to hatch a plot about Batman,” she replies snappishly, arms crossing.   


“Selina, dearest, if I have plots for _Batman_ I most certainly wouldn’t call for your wonderful, feline expertise,” he says darkly. “We all know with whom certain loyalties lie after all.”

She can’t help the facepalm she gives, her eloquent dress has been wasted tonight. “So this plot is against Bruce Wayne? I’m out. I don’t deal with exes, Ozzie.”   


“I thought you _enjoyed_ revenge plots, my fair feline friend!” the Penguin squawks indignantly.   


“I do just…” she hesitates, hand on the door. She looks over her shoulder. “Promise me you won’t let anything happen to him. Permanently.”

“I promise nothing of the kind,” he says, crossing his arms.

“Your loss, Cobblepot,” she sighs, walking out the door. “Have fun with Batman.”

“You tattle tail!”

Selina shakes her head the whole way home. She doesn’t have to tell Batman anything to know a certain plume is doomed to fail.  



	3. A Bit of a Setup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BabsDinah. A romantic dinner, suspicious date -- Dinah has an idea of what's up.

The restaurant was gorgeous, probably took either hacking or a year long reservation to get them the seats over the the balcony. Dinah wasn’t sure which one was going to be more romantic to hear if she bothered to ask Barbara.

Not that she was going to ask because there was a good chance Barbara wouldn’t even bother telling her. She could be a real mystery woman that way.   


The dresses they wore weren’t matching in anything but extravagance and, really, there wasn’t any other way that Dinah would have wanted it. It was a prefect date. Probably only possible thanks to Helena and Zinda holding down the fort back in Gotham.   


It was a night seldom afforded to superheroes. Which was what made Dinah so suspicious from the beginning.

Barbara dabbed her napkin against her lips a few times, cleared her throat.   


Dinah leaned forward, point down at the table. “I knew this was a setup.”

“It’s not a setup,” Babs defended immediately, giving a warning look over her glasses.

“It’s not a date, though,” Dinah pressed, pouting her lip.

“It _is_ a date,” Barbara sighed. She hesitated, reached in her purse cautiously. “It’s also maybe a setup.”

“I knew it!” Dinah cried out before looking around, expecting ninja or assassins or a dictator they had scammed in the past. But it was still just a balcony in Opal City. For some reason.

By the time Dinah looked back, she found her eyes caught not by Barbara’s hypnotic gaze, but by the shining sparkle of a rock in her hands.   


“Be my wife,” Babs said, eyes glittering from the combination of candelight, giant rock of what appeared to be nth metal band and emerald, and a bit of hostile-Oracle-takeover-face.

Dinah snorted, covering her face with her hand. “Oh, my god, you Bats are the biggest romantic, least subtle saps in the whole world,” she sighed. She then held out her hand. “Ring me, my queen.”

“Your wish is my command,” Babs snortled back, gently slipping the ring on as Dinah dove in for a kiss.  



	4. Time and Time Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boostle. Ted recognizes patterns.

Being friends with Booster long enough got Ted to the point where he almost didn’t question different costumes or haircuts or age lines. He didn’t question them, but he marked them down neatly on a little calendar on his personal computer.   


It started as something as a hobby – a fun thing to joke about someday with his best friend once Ted was let in on the “secret” that wasn’t so secret (C’mon, Mikey, a time traveler who time travels to events in his _own_ lifetime, what a shock). But it never really ended. 

There was an endless string of them. His Booster – Booster Prime, if you will – was the easiest to peg down because Ted suspected with quite a deal of support that he also had zero concept of what was going on with the time traveling future Michaels. This made him the Booster that was obviously the one to be trusted and, in a way, the most fun to hang around. If Ted had adventures with a different Booster, his Booster could never know about them.

Ted, for once, knew more about his friend’s future than his friend knew about his. And there was a wicked sort of amusement born from that that almost made Ted understand why Booster did things the way he did.   


As for the other Boosters, they had their own patterns as well, and if Ted paid enough attention to them it was easy to pinpoint where they fit in his little timeline. Given, the receding hairline usually was a big clue itself.   


Each Booster had a distinct way to greet him. One of them wasn’t too much older, and honestly it was the one Ted had seen the least of. He was full of youthful excitement, not that much different from Booster Prime, and was the easiest to adventure with. He spilled the beans on a few things – ruined the movie coming out four months later that Ted had _really_ been looking forward to, but he was so Booster. Ted was just grateful.   


The others ranged in their creepy factor. Happy Booster seemed to be about a decade off from their current age. He was just so damn happy to Ted that he used every variation of Ted’s name from “Beetle” to “Theodore” – like if he stopped saying who Ted was he’d forget. He hugged Ted so hard that the fellow hero had no option but to realize that, at some point, Booster got _ripped._ Which was weird, and somewhat humiliating considering Ted’s current flab.   


Which brought out Patronizing Booster – not that much older than Happy Booster but it was like a fire had been extinguished in his eyes. He had an opinion on everything in Ted’s life but no explanation for why. “Eat better” and “exercise more” and even, the most infuriating of all, “Ask out Oracle, it’s okay, I’ll get over it.” As if Booster knew everything. Which maybe he did. It wasn’t fair.

Still. Patronizing Booster wasn’t Sad Booster. And Sad Booster, well, he was the worst of them all.  


After about the fifth time “sad” Booster came to him, looking still like a kicked puppy, old enough to be graying, unshaven, eyes glassy and perpetually red, Ted couldn’t handle it anymore.

“I know what you are!” he finally lashed out, pointing toward the exit of his lab. “I can’t take this anymore, Michael! I can’t handle this time travel crap, and by the looks of it neither can you!”

“I’m sorry,” Sad Booster said, hardly acknowledging his younger self on the security camera, waiting to be buzzed in.   


“You’re not even trying to save the timeline or anything, you’re just…” Ted rubbed his face. “Don’t you dare do that again! I’m not worth risking all of time and space over. I’m not.”

He didn’t dare to move as his old friend’s arms wrapped around him, as a scratchy kiss was laid on his forehead.

“You are,” Booster said before disappearing completely.   



	5. Meet Me at Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BabsDinah. When the JSA headquarters get an ambitious invader, Black Canary gets a new, fun headache

At  the end of the day, the game isn’t very sporting.   


This “Batgirl” sure seems to know a lot more about _her_ than she does of the newest Gotham vigilante.   


That’s not normally how Black Canary likes to enter things, but sometimes even a champ needs to be made to feel like a bit of an underdog. It’s something to get the blood pumping, to keep that fighting spirit alive.

Because, to be frank, the girl’s got talent but not a lot of honing yet. And her body reads like an over eager cheerleader sometimes. Black Canary figures out pretty early on that she’s really just a kid.   


At least, that’s how things _should_ be.

Until she’s entering her apartment and sees the note.

**_Dinah,  
_ ** _JSA headquarters. Meet me at midnight. Alone.  
-B.G._

“What a brat,” Dinah laughs, caught off guard. She takes down the note from her fridge and turns it over. “She even drew a bat on it.” Smirking toward her half opened window, Dinah walks to her closet, begins to open the hidden back to get to her equipment and suit. “I thought she’d be too smart to stick through with this gig, she’d grow out of it.” She put on the wig last, smirking at the reflection meeting her gaze. “But she might actually just be stubborn enough to do something with it.”

It’s the first time the enigmatic B.G. has her full attention, and far from the last.  



	6. There for Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DickBabs. She hasn't seen Dick in two weeks. It's been a bad two weeks.

She hadn’t seen his face in two weeks. That seemed, at first, like an exaggeration. How could it have been _two weeks_ since they had met face to face, but when Barbara sat back and thought the days over, the utter chaos that had been the weeks of _Bruce missing_ and then _Bruce dead_ before _Bruce was alive_ and _Bruce was dead again_ , it became more and more undeniable.

Dick and her had hardly even been on the same side of the city in two weeks. Getting closer to three.

It was why she made an active effort the moment she could bare to part with her computers and connections, to go up the Manor’s elevator, let Tim run the computers while he was in, let Alfred walk her through the halls that had never seemed larger and more barren.   


She caught the flicker of black and gold in the corner of her eye, another person she needed to make time for soon, but for the moment Alfred was feeding into her fear that someone needed her attention first.   


And one glance into the bedroom, Barbara agreed that he did.

Dick wasn’t in bed, as much as he should have been by any layman’s observations. He looked more scarred and battered than she had seen him in a long time. What with Arkham’s escapes and the Black Glove and the end of the world.   


And, of course, the funeral.   


What physical scars it failed to leave among Dick’s collection was still written coldly onto his face. And when he looked at her, Barbara felt scared for the man who had been one of her closest friends for almost a lifetime.

For his part, Dick didn’t seem to be surprised to see her. Perhaps grateful beneath the rings of his eyes.   


“He’s gone,” Dick said, voice hoarse. Alfred closed the door. “He’s…” He looked away again, hit the dresser with an already bruised fist.   


Barbara took into account that it could have been a harder hit. Either Dick was able to hold back or he was too tired. She wasn’t sure which one was better for him.   


“That’s not helping anything,” she reminded him, gripping her wheels before nearing him. She didn’t show any hesitation. She wasn’t going to let him think he could chase her away when he needed her. “You know that.”

“What am I supposed to do, Barbara?” he asked, voice already watery. “Cry? Like that would help anything?”

“It might,” she said, reaching out, pressing a hand to his jagged back. “You know, it’s okay to cry.“

When his knees gave, Barbara caught him, held his shoulders up, pulled him closer, and let him lay his head and arms across her legs as he sobbed. She knew he had cried for Bruce before this, but she doubted Dick had really let himself feel his loss before, especially not in front of the others.   


She took off her glasses, scratched at her own tearing eyes, but put away her own needs for another night, stroking Dick’s hair, rubbing his back. Letting him have the night he needed.   


Just another night without Batman.   



	7. Competitive Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roy and Lian bond over video games.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt by judedeluca

There was a time in his life where Roy truly believed that he had the respect and honored reverence of his daughter. He truly believed that he could do no wrong in her beautiful brown eyes. That she was going to be endlessly devoted to him for the rest of his life because they were best pals, best buds, two peas in a pod, inseparable.   


And, to be fair, he was ignoring the ever present call of time moving forward.   


Also there was no way he could have predicted that Nintendo would get such a die hard affinity for motion control.

“My remote’s broken! This doesn’t work!” Roy howled as the colorful characters zipped past him.

He shook the remote and turned it over. Jerked it around. Yoshi refused to go faster – the stupid green jerkwad.

“Mine’s good,” Lian said, grinning ear to ear as she zipped further and further across the Mario Kart track, hitting speed boost after speed boost.

Roy watched her indignantly for a moment. She was _hardly_ moving her hands and yet every motion was tracked. It was… Roy wasn’t sure what it was, but he was certain it was going to get her first place. _Again.  
_

And him last place. _Again.  
_

Really, as a proud father there was only response he _could_ have to such a dire situation. So he pressed A with all of his furious might.

Lian seemed none the wiser until _BLAM_ she was sent spinning into second – third – _fourth_ place, her hands jerking the remote to get back in control. Her tiny mouth was gaping before she turned and glared at her father.

“Did you just blue shell me!?” she demanded.

Roy said nothing, but his smile gave everything away as he stared at the screen.

Lian finished in third before launching herself from the couch onto her father growling in fury. Roy just laughed in complete joy.   


It was a pretty good Saturday.  



	8. Who's Robin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has been Robin for a while now...

Robin has been _his_ for nearly a month. A _whole_ month and the excitement of that very thought makes his cartwheels on building ledges feel almost weightless.   


“Robin,” Batman says lowly in warning, and Robin wonders just how he manages to know _everything_ he’s doing without ever looking away from his binoculars or even so much as moving from his perch. “Don’t draw attention.”

“Alright,” Robin returns, flipping to his feet and beginning his short stroll to his partner’s side.

He leans in, throwing an elbow on Batman’s shoulder.   


It’s the sort of familiarity that he’s never really given before, a wild test in the field to see what Batman does with it even after months of training and almost a year since pestering each other on the street over a few spare tires. It’s the sort of thing that’s going to really change things if Robin’s worst fears are anything close to reality.

Batman doesn’t so much as blink, only putting the binoculars down after a few minutes of observation.   


“Are you ready for some action?” he asks, standing up and reaching for his grappler.   


“Am I?” Robin mugs, smacking his fist into the opposing glove, feeling the crunch of kevlar beneath. He grinds the fabric together for effect and doesn’t at all miss the ghost of a smirk that crosses Batman’s face as they turn toward the opposing building.   


“Wait,” he calls out, a little hesitant, watches carefully as Batman does just that. “I… what about you? Are you… Do _you_ think I’m ready?”

Batman stares at him for a moment in that way that even Robin hasn’t yet been able to distinguish the meaning behind. Just that he’s expecting _Robin’s_ move first.   


Then, “Of course,” he says simply.

“And… are you… You’re proud of me?” he presses, because Robin can’t just leave good enough alone. There’s an itching desire to know. To be assured. “I mean, proud of the progress I’ve made?”

There’s an uncomfortable silence before Batman turns away and, almost gruffly, replies, “Of course I am. You’re Robin.”

When Batman begins his swing across the street, Robin is ready to join him, heart pounding and stomach still flopping. It was the response he wanted to hear even more than the crashing of glass as they burst in on the gang below.   


But if he’s entirely honest, it would have meant all the more if, instead, he’d heard “You’re _Jason.”_  



	9. Tag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass & Steph. The girls play tag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt by goodluckdetective

Stephanie thinks that maybe, and this is a just _maybe,_ that Cassandra is actually pulling a joke on her. That this mysterious Batgirl with quick fists and not all that much to say is actually just part of another elaborate test. Some prank that Robin and Batman and Oracle and everyone else is just laughing about behind her back.

Waiting for the big fat reveal – “Stephanie Brown’s not hero material!”

The very thought of it makes her lip curl even more. She’s determined, full stride, to stick her landing and wipe that smirk right off Cassandra’s face, and her momentum and her footing and _everything_ except gravity is with her on that.

She tumbles into a roll again and Cassandra moves out of the way so fast it’s like she hadn’t been on the roof at all.   


Stephanie’s hands ball into fists and she stares at the stars for a bit before continuing to roll over, glaring at Cassandra.

“Is this supposed to be this hard?” she demands. “I thought you said it’s a game.”

“It is,” Cassandra responds with an owlish blink that’s obvious even with her dark cowl. She turns her head slightly. “Is… it not fun?”

“To be honest with you, I wouldn’t know,” Steph snaps back, rolling onto her knees and brushing off the Gotham grossness from her thighs. “I feel like I’m not even playing.”

“Oh,” Cassandra says thoughtfully.

Steph is muttering to herself, questioning why she keeps trying so hard to impress the Spookygirl, when she feels Cass drop down on the roof beside her. She looks to see the Batgirl holding out her arm toward Stephanie.   


“Tag me?” Cass asks genuinely.

Scowling, Steph smacks her arm. “Fine! Tag then–”   


Before she’s even done, Cassandra is smacking her shoulder back saying, “Tag.”

Allowing herself a few blinks, Stephanie throws up her hands. “What the heck, Batgirl!? You won’t even let me win in your _peace offering?”_

Looking almost confused, Cassandra puts a hand on her chest. “But… then _I’d_ lose!”

“No _duh!”_ Stephanie groans.

“Oh, I see the problem,” Cass says, sounding almost like there _isn’t_ a very obvious solution.   


Steph smacks her arm. “Tag!–”

“Tag.”

“Tag!”

“Tag.”

“Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.” “Tag!” “Tag.”   


By the time they’re reduced to wrestling each other over the rooftop, who’s saying tag is hardly discernible, not that anything but Stephanie’s long defended pride can even notice with the streams of tears down her face from laughter.

Rooftop tag, she decides, might not be so bad after all.  



	10. Delicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BabsDinah. Barbara's still piecing together the night before

There had been a few things that Barbara regretted about letting Zinda pick the festivities for the night. A lot of them had to do with the fact that she severely underestimated both her friend’s tolerance level _and_ put off the warning signs that Zinda had, after all, once been a bartender. For Guy Gardner nonetheless.   


So there was a lot that could have slipped past Barbara in her state the night before, just as she was sure that Helena’s dedication to documenting the entire night on her phone was probably going to come back to bite her in the near future. 

As Oracle, she never liked to give more blackmail material than she had gathered for herself.   


Nursing a headache in the morning, Barbara was already devising ways she could possibly take all the evidence for herself when she noticed the way Charlie was hanging back, away from the kitchen door. Barbara gave the girl a solid look before Misfit “Eeped!” into a full on Bounce out of the apartment.   


“Odd,” Barbara muttered before drinking down her homemade cure straight from the Jim Gordon handbook.   


It was then that the door became graced by another presence all together, making the tension somewhat melt from Barbara’s shoulders. She smiled and nodded to Dinah.   


“Good morning,” Barbara said gently.

Dinah looked at her for a moment, a noticeable hue collecting in her cheeks, before she coughed into her fist and began making her way through the kitchen, stiff in her stride despite obviously attempting to mask _whatever_ it was she was thinking.   


“Good morning yourself,” Dinah responded in a joking tone as she went for the fridge.   


“Thanks for playing the part of mature one last night,” Barbara said, turning to watch as Dinah reached for what looked like a pizza box from the local dump Barbara _never_ usually ordered from. The need to delete any other “forgotten” memories from Helena’s phone only intensified at the sight of it. “I know it’s ridiculous, but you just have to let go every now and then. Let loose.” She rubbed at her face and groaned. “I sound like Zinda.”

“Ah-huh,” Dinah replied, pulling the box out and tossing it a bit haphazardly onto the island. “I mean, don’t think anything of it. I wish you’d ‘let loose’ a little more, to be honest. It was… nice to hear some real affection from you.”

Barbara was busy feeling equal parts disgusted at the sight of cold pizza being chowed down on and oddly starved at first, but the words began to catch up with her and she stared curiously at Dinah.   


“Affection?” Barbara asked, a little incredulously. “What do you mean?”   


Dinah chewed around her pizza for a moment, swallowed, and then tossed her head back a bit. She pursed her lips. “Oh. So you don’t remember any of it.”

“I don’t,” Barbara said simply, eyes hardening a bit now that she was latched onto a mystery. “Did I say something wrong?”   


“No, you failed a bit at your wooing tactics, though,” Dinah snorted, propping up against the island some. “It was comical at the bar. _Hilarious_ at the second bar. Reached new heights of impassioned pleading at home.”

“I don’t plead!” Barbara scoffed. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Dinah agreed, chomping on her pizza slice again. “Not when you’re sober you don’t. Fun, ‘loose’ Babs, though? You provided some really affectionate terms for me last night.” Dinah grinned widely. “I think you even said you _loved_ me at one point.”

Barbara felt a certain heat come to her face. She stiffened in her chair. “I most certainly… I didn’t… I… Okay, when you say _love,_ do you mean love as in like loving pizza or as in love, _love?”_

“Well, I took it as _love,”_ Dinah admitted, face a little red, though her eyes were determined and smile jovial. “And when I do it almost feels sweet. But I’m pretty sure your exact words at once point were ‘I want you to love me as much as I love this awful pizza.’ Which, if that’s recorded somewhere, I will finally let you upgrade my flip phone to something that could play it and I’ll have Helena send it to me. I’ll keep it forever.”

For a moment, Barbara only glared at Dinah. But she soon caved into the reality of the situation and covered her face with her hands, letting out a low groan. “Did Charlie hear that?”

“I can only assume the neighbors down the block heard it as well,” Dinah responded with a snort. “But I might be exaggerating.”

“I will find that phone and break it,” Barbara decided.   



	11. Earthinglings and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Teen Titans Cartoon] RobStar. She knows, at times, she makes mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt by mistressgrey-posts

[The animated _Teen Titans_ show ‘verse]

Robin was… too easily embarrassed. It was a simple fact – a simple problem, really. He carried too much pride, too much concern, too much…. Well. He carried too much tension as it were.   


Starfire understood. She did.   


Not everything on Earth made sense to her – they were strange, reserved, unattached a lot of the time. As much beauty and love as she happily found on the planet, she also could find it carried every polar opposite.   


These were the sorts of things that made her miss Tamaran. Just as much as she knew her own homeworld wasn’t perfect, she never felt it was impossible to get _something_ right when she tried.   


Unlike Earth, where her attempts to do something nice for Robin were met with, well, the opposite.   


It wasn’t long before he was embarrassed by the party thrown, unhappy with the commotion caused on his behalf, and retreated into his own room away from them all.

Starfire wasn’t _happy_ with how he did it, but she tried to understand. She tried to follow his logic as much as she could.   


And it was how she found herself outside of his room, looking patiently at the door.   


“I don’t think you should always hide from us, hide from your feelings,” Starfire said. “I think it’s good for you to feel appreciated. That was what your party was for. It wasn’t meant to embarrass you. But I know it did. And for that I’m sorry.” She pulled out the extra large pizza box from behind her and looked longingly at the door. “This is an apology pizza. Please take it or I will start crying right here.“

She tried to not let her smile show too much as the door began to open.  



	12. Don't Mind Your Uncle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason & Damian. Jason can tell when something's up with Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt by readingwritingraptures

There were several reasons for Jason to neglect sticking around for the GCPD to officially take Hush into custody, really. Not the least of which being that the Red Hood was not exactly a _low_ priority on their lists, of course. 

But, really, even more than that there was a pang of concern for his partner-by-circumstance for the night. 

Robin had been oddly quiet and reserved since their capturing of Hush. Which, considering it was _Damian_ , was far from normal.

At first he had suspected it was simply because, like Jason thought himself, there was a definite lack of pomp and circumstance to Hush’s capture. There was _definitely_ some other plot at play, some _reason_ that Hush was so willing to be captured. 

But as he neared the perch Robin had taken on one of Gotham’s finer examples of overly extravagant architectures, Jason began to latch onto the idea that, just perhaps, something even more was pestering the kid. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jason asked rather snidely, leaning back against the building’s brick. 

Damian looked at him for a moment, then reached for his grappling gun. “No.”

“Yeah, gee, why don’t I buy that,” Jason returned with a cross of his arms. 

“I’m _fine,”_ Damian hissed. 

“Ohhh, right. Sure,” Jason snapped back. “ _The hills are alive, with the sound of bullshit_.“

“Why do you _care?”_ Damian demanded, rounding on him. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because you made the mistake of igniting my curiosity,” Jason replied. “Now what’s wrong with you?”

Damian stared holes into him, but Jason didn’t move. Eventually, after what felt like minutes, the little Robin looked away, staring at Gotham. He gritted his teeth. 

“Father has been back for almost a year now, and he has known about my existence for nearly three years,” Damian reminded Jason. He looked back into Jason’s eyes, anger visible on his face. “Before we finished with Hush tonight, he happened to remind me that I have actually spent more time with _him_ at this point than with my own father.”

Jason frowned. “What, is that true?”

“We used to play chess.”

Letting out a low whistle, Jason put his hands on his hips. “Ol’ Tommy must be pretty good at it then!”

Turning his head slightly, Damian blinked. “Why would you say that?”

“Because he’s playing you pretty well right now,” Jason alerted the Robin, watching as the kid bristled at the statement. “You can take my advice for whatever you want, kid, but my point to you is going to be this: the moment you let these colorful characters into your head without permission is the moment you’re going to start losing to them.”


	13. Text Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> StaticxOC. She comes home to a lot of quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt by TheEffar  
> Alexandria owned by TheEffar~

She slung her bag to the floor with a thud, ignored the clink of what was likely important metals and artifacts from her journey, and instead listened to the hollowness of her home. 

For months she had wanted nothing more than to return to her own space, to just melt into her apartment again and be at peace, be _alone._ And just when she had settled, just when Alex had thought for certain that she was never going to get that dream, she was returned by Hades himself. Due time and all that, she supposed.

What no one bothered to tell her before her key went into the door, was that there were prices for everything. 

Without her sister’s stuff, their apartment wasn’t half-empty, it was _all_ empty. Alex didn’t decorate, she didn’t do much more than collect trinkets. And what of those she had she almost always used or had use for. 

Bare shelves, bare cabinets, bare tables. 

Alex closed the door behind her and stared at the running carpet and end table at the other side of the hall. Neither of those things belonged to her, but she assumed her sister had bequeathed them out of pity. 

“Welcome home,” Alex told herself almost sardonically before running a hand through what was left of her short hair. 

She paused mid stroke, feeling the protruding horns. “Right,” she sighed. 

Months of being able to stand around in any form she pleased had almost led her to forgot that the mortal realm – that Earth – wasn’t nearly as forgiving about appearances. 

When she reached for the closet door and looked for a good hat, her only concern was getting some takeout and staving off the need to shop for groceries by a few precious days, and she _certainly_ wasn’t expecting to feel the vibrations of a text message in her back pocket.

Reaching for the nearest beanie, Alex used her free hand to jerk out her phone and give it a solid stare.

_V_Stat: Hit me up ;-]_

Alex searched her mind, remembering when she had left her phone alone to be tampered with at any point between Hell and Titans Tower, finally recalling her trip by Dakota to check on her sister. There had been a team up with Static and the Shadow Cabinet that wasn’t _entirely_ unpleasant.

Until now, as she smacked her face and groaned. 

_Me: no._  
V_Stat: ur new here. Show u he sites  
Me: no.  
V_Stat: Pay for dinner?

It wasn’t as if she was short on cash, but Alex hesitated. Her heart was pounding. She needed to role herself up in some Grade A self misery. She needed to scream into whatever pillows her sister left before moving for a few hours. Needed to try desperately to remember the Netflix password. 

She needed distance and she needed company. She couldn’t have one with the other.

“You have a decision, Alexandria,” she grumbled to herself. “Hate yourself for a few days… or hate yourself for a few days with a cute boy around?”

Biting her lip, the demigoddess pressed “send.”


	14. Being Prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce & Terry. Terry is learning to be prepared for everything...except that.

There were a few things that the last four years of being the Batman had taught Terry. Preparation had been chief among them.

Bruce preached and preached and _preached_ about preparation. He said in the line of work they did that if you didn’t have a plan and then ten plans to _back up_ that plan, you were walking into trouble.

As someone who had spent the majority of his life flying by the seat of his pants, Terry was more than a little willing to debate that for the first few years.   


Countless close shaves later, not so much.   


It took some genuine practice, but it wasn’t long before Terry was staring at the ceiling from his bed, thinking up scenarios. Training in the cave, an extra moment spent looking over his shoulder that would just again and again prove its effectiveness in the field.

Terry was prepared for a lot of things. Some of them more than others.   


“Patrol has been kind of dead tonight,” Terry sounded off, flicking more of the radios on in the Batmobile. “Gordon said she didn’t have anything else on that Snops case either. I’m thinking it’s kind of shaping up to be an extortion thing. I told Max to run some programs on it. Should be hearing back from her soon.”

He waited, silent as the Batmobile hummed beneath his touch. Terry took his eyes off of the sky ahead to look into the radio.

“You’ve been quiet tonight, Wayne,” he said. “Is it your throat? I know you had a cough.”

“Terry,” Bruce croaked.

“Yeah?” Terry returned, raising a brow at his mentor’s rasp. “Bruce?”

“Please. Come and get me.”

It was the _“p”_ on _“please”_ and Terry had spun the Batmobile midair before blasting toward Bristol with everything in him.   



	15. Superman Useless?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clois. When Lois reads the headlines she's not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt by Mistressgrey-posts

Clark was rather enjoying the crunch of his cereal when the newspaper him square in the face. He was mid chew so he bothered to finish up before reaching up with his free hand and pulling the _Daily Planet_ off of his nose.   


He raised a brow casually as he neatly placed the paper on the table, then he looked to his wife.   


Lois had an annoyed furrow across her brow, arms crossed, head tossed to the side. There was even the little curl of her lip that Clark loved for being the most telling of her ‘signs’. Usually it meant he would have to swoop in and spare whoever had gotten on her last nerve.   


For some reason that morning it seemed to have been _him.  
_

“Not a fan of the paper today?” he asked casually, glancing over it – it was hot off the presses, for sure.

“Clark, your story’s on the cover!” she snapped.

He reached for his coffee, unable to keep down a good smirk. “Jealous?”

“Livid,” she corrected, bringing her hand down on the small sidelining article. “Did you even read this? How much of this was edited?”

“It’s all mine,” he assured her. “I got it in last minute last night but Perry was happy to run it since Superman failing to do anything about the shooting in Vernon Park is fairly big news.”

The look Lois gave him was _killer.  
_

Clark knew where she was going with this, but he didn’t particularly feel the need to back down. He looked at the headline again _“Superman Useless? by Clark Kent”,_ then he returned to his cereal.

There wasn’t even a blink of surprise when Lois smacked the table with both hands then threw herself into her chair. She scowled at her knees, digging her nails into the tabletop.   


“It’s really not worth getting angry about,” he told her. “I’m just posing a question.”

“You’re baiting people to attack your merits more than they already do,” she snapped immediately. “And _Superman_ is _always_ worth getting angry about. Getting passionate about. Superman’s…”   


When she paused, Lois looked up, eyes searching across the room. There was a starry distance to them, the kind of thing that Clark had seen in them the first time she looked at him after he saved the plane she was on, the first time they had met.   


“You’re _not_ useless,” Lois said finally, bringing her gaze back to him. There was still some heat to her words, but her eyes were still shining with stars. “You’re the opposite of useless. In every way.”

Clark looked at his wife wondered what he could have done to deserve her, then, went back to his breakfast in silence. He was fairly sure that there were three teenagers in Vernon Memorial Park who disagreed.   



	16. Before the Last Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana is forced to say goodbye before she's ready.

Mortality was not something that Diana was unfamiliar with. Death, one could even say, had been a very strong presence in her life by that point. She herself had died at least twice, and many of her friends and peers over the years had given similar sacrifices.   


But death was different for them. It was as different for the heroes and villains as it was between gods and mortals.   


And dealing with death, _true_ death as it were, was not something Diana ever thought she was prepared for.

Nor for dear friends.   


She searched Etta’s eyes, looked into them for that spark of joy and love that had always made her such a good friend over the long, hard years. And it was what made that lack of delight so hard to see. It _wounded_ Diana to see it.   


“It’s… just so sudden,” Etta commented, speaking for the first time since Diana’s arrival. “It doesn’t seem right. Does it, Diana?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Diana replied softly. She laid a hand on Etta’s shoulder, meaning to instill sisterhood and support, to remind her of strength, but instead Diana felt her own limbs tremble, her vision blur. She looked down, masking her face in hair so that Etta didn’t have to see Wonder Woman cry. “I apologize, Etta. I’ll compose myself–”

“Oh, come off it,” Etta hushed her. “We’re… we’re all family here.” Etta’s face finally fell and she lowered her head, reaching to her face and rubbing it roughly. “We… we all love each other…”

Feeling counterproductive, Diana squeezed her friend’s shoulders before standing up, walking toward the casket of her oldest and dearest friend.   


Steve looked so peaceful. So _old._ Diana knelt, bestowing a kiss to his forehead.   


“Save us a dance by Styx, old friend,” she whispered to him. “I’ll hold you to it.”  



	17. Flying with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batson Siblings. They need to check out the Rock of Eternity.  
> Post-Convergence

It had been a year, perhaps a little more, since Mary had felt the power of Shazam rushing through her veins again. Her body was tingling with the abilities of Mary Marvel from the top of her head to the tips of all her fingers and toes. 

She felt alive again, and while she had never felt the discontent and frustration to the level Billy had over the past year, she still felt the rush of loving energy in herself again and felt truly happy.

But it was truly thrilling to feel the power of flight again, to feel wind beneath her arms, the sun at her back. 

The world had changed and it had changed something fierce over the year, of course. And Mary wasn’t sure how any of them would feel in the times to come as danger beyond their own world began to impact them again. 

“Mary?”   


Hearing her name, Mary turned to side, smiling brightly to see Cap joining by her side, smiling broadly on his won. It was so wonderful to see her brother happy again.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked him, swooping down to meet him halfway. “It’s been a _long_ time since we went to the Rock of Eternity. We don’t really know what we’re getting into there. Maybe we should get Freddy and Uncle Dudley…”  


“I have a link to the Rock of Eternity still, I’m confident in its security,” Billy assured her, heading their flight path to the familiar destination again. “And I’ll be sure they both see the Rock soon, but… this is something I wanted for the two of us together first.”  


Mary couldn’t help the smile that came with that news. “Brother and sister, returning to the home away from home?”

“You bet,” Billy returned, holding her hand in his. “Just the way it’s meant to be.”  



	18. Lowest points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BatCat. She's there when he needs her.

Her approach wasn’t unforeseen. She was, after all, one of the very few who knew where to go to find him.   


The corner of the East End held little significance for anyone else, and sometimes he had to question whether or not it still held any appeal to her. He’d never ran into her on one of the nights where he came to think to himself on its ledge.   


But maybe that made it all the more important that she understood what it meant for him, and that she would come to this pace just for him as it were. Bruce wasn’t so certain.   


She blinked a bit, surprised by his appearance, and reached subconsciously for her goggles. She didn’t seem to know whether or not they were appropriate, masking her face while he had nothing.

“Is Bruce Wayne trying a new publicity stunt for an East End charity?” she asked with a lilt of humor.   


“No,” he responded coldly, staring out over the city – his city.

Even at night, with every light in Gotham shining, the city somehow seemed dimmer now. If he hadn’t realized he was crying – and at least part of him hadn’t – the blurring of his vision gave him a clue.   


He reached up to touch his cheek, felt the tracks of tears, and let his hand fall to his side again. He didn’t care.   


Selina, however, seemed to.   


She stepped forward, head shaking. “Bruce…”

“Do you remember what this spot is?” he asked her distractedly.   


“It’s where we stood when Black Mask burned down Leslie Thompkins’ second clinic,” Selina responded, folding her arms. She looked to the still deconstructed and forgotten hole where the clinic once stood. “God, few things have ever made me feel worse…”

Bruce stared at the scarred grounds, imagined the heat from the hospital, the cold wash in the pit of his stomach. He had to imagine them, as little as he could feel anymore.

“I always came here before because I felt it stood for something… for some insight into how wrong my choices could go,” he informed her, unable to tear his eyes away. “Now… now I’m just… I’m wonder what ones I did could have ever… ever been bad enough to take him away from me.”

He couldn’t hold it any longer. Bruce dug his palm into his tearing, swollen eyes and choked on the sob he couldn’t hold anymore. The noises he made were unformed, blathering, and incoherent, and somehow he still felt it down to his very knees.   


Wobbly, he dropped down, only partially balanced on the ledge before he felt Selina’s arms wrap around from behind, pull him into her front, and turn his head to her shoulder.

“Shhh, c’mere…” she whispered.

“Alfred… I can’t… just not… not Alfred,” he murmured between his heaves.   


“I know,” Selina whispered against his head, her fingers combing through his messy locks. “I know, Bruce. Oh, god, I’m so sorry.”

“He…” Bruce’s mind was too numb. He couldn’t form the words to express what was gone – a father, a mentor, a true friend, a protector, a guide, a restraint – in an instant it was gone and Bruce was _lost_.   


“I know, Bruce,” Selina whispered again. “I know.”  



	19. We Were Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce & Tim. It's been a while since they worked together

“It’s been a long time since we worked together. Hasn’t it?”

Tim thought the question over, rolled it around in his mind some. It had, indeed, been a long time, but as he squatted by the room’s corner, increased the wattage of his penlight, and continued to evaluate the crime scene in a way that was just respectable for a world class detective to do, he decided that Bruce wasn’t really asking the question.

They both knew it had been a very long time since they worked as partners.   


Bruce was trying to start up a conversation. Awkwardly. And Tim, well, there was a grudge streak in him a mile long that felt somewhat tested by the flat attempt to rekindle what they once had.   


Tim stood up, looking to his belt and reaching for the evidence bags.   


“International expansion takes up a lot of free time,” he said in a falsely even tone. “Being the only person Cassandra contacts doesn’t help that.”

He was exaggerating, just a touch. He didn’t know whether or not Cass had contacted the others or even Bruce himself. And it wasn’t like their own infrequent communications was Cass checking in and pinpointing her activities so much as it was occasional boredom or need-to-know basis information.   


But judging by the full body flinch he got in response, Tim took a sick sort of comfort in the bite of his own words.   


“Being back has been… a difficult adjustment,” Bruce said lowly.   


“It has been,” Tim agreed. “I guess I was just taken by surprise how easy it was to slip into being _Bruce_ and _Batman_ and _CEO_ and _Justice Leaguer_ again, when it’s compared to stopping by and talking to your kids every now and then.”

When Bruce looked up, the hardened, icy glare of the cowl was all that Tim could see. Which was fine. Tim could stand his ground and return the same from his own cowl.   


After a few long moments, Bruce pocketed a baggie and looked to the window. “I see,” he said stiffly. “I’ll take what I collected to Gordon. I suppose you want to handle this on your own then.”

Tim frowned, already feeling his heart fluttering in his chest. _What was he doing?_ “I guess I do.”

In an instant, Bruce went from standing by the window to being gone, and Tim didn’t know if the teeth grinding anger was from how fast Bruce was willing to give up that fight, or at himself for his constant need to cling to his bitterness.   


For a moment, Tim considered going after. He could still join Bruce’s side, still be partners for another night. He could still make things right between them.

But just as he had those thoughts, he could hear the alert from his cowl’s com and instinctively answered it.   


“Hey, you busy? I might need a second pair of eyes for this,” Harper’s voice droned out, oblivious to everything that had just happened.   


Tim didn’t answer, still mulling over his options.   


“Uhhhh Red Robin? Now not a good time or–”

“Now’s fine,” Tim said, bringing up his tracker. “I’m coming, just sit tight.”

He went in the opposite direction of his father and didn’t look back.  



	20. A Little Bit of Humor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass & Damian & Dick. Siblings can be funny sometimes.

Cassandra had only been back in Gotham for two months, but it was blatantly obvious to Dick that she was becoming something of a satellite around Damian. Which, while amusing, was a curiosity he felt the need to investigate.

After all, the time she spent focused on Tim and Steph, on Alfred and Barbara – it all made sense. Dick knew they were her closest friends and that they had missed Cassandra no doubt just as much as she had missed them herself. Dick was honestly happy every time he saw them taking time off to be around each other.

But the hovering Cass did around Damian was, quite simply _hysterical._

Damian, ever so prickly and aware of his surroundings, had noticed by the third time he returned home from patrol only to have Cass stand over his shoulder, petting his hair, messing with his locker, generally annoying him. But as much as he would shout and counter her and lash out, he could do nothing about it. 

Dick was reminded of a kitten unable to catch a toy on a string. 

But it was also the _tiniest_ bit cruel, and Dick supposed it was only right as the mediator of his siblings to step in after Damian finally broke away from Cassandra and went stomping up the stairs.

“Are you trying some new form of sibling torture?” Dick asked curiously.  


Cass had a grin from ear to ear. “He’s so funny,” she told him. Her eyes were sparking. “He never lies.”

Turning his head slightly to the side, Dick couldn’t help but raise a brow at the statement. He hummed, thinking it over. “What do you mean by that?”

“He’s always so… _serious,”_ Cass said, snorting. “Listen to what he says. He’s so serious. He says so many funny things. It’s never joking.”  


“He jokes sometimes,” Dick corrected before stroking his chin. “But lemme pay a little closer attention, see where you’re coming from, Li’l Sister. I trust your word on it.”  


And he did. 

Before _breakfast_ that day Damian had, in utter seriousness, said “Drake doesn’t deserve his position on the board, so I have drafted up my third petition to have him removed” and “My body seems to have experienced some form of inhibited growth. I should be taller, it is in my genetic code. I believe it’s American food, Pennyworth will have to begin ordering from Europe to prepare my meals.” and “I have no need for a Physical Fitness elective. I do backflips every single day of my life. And _required_ fitness is _hardly_ elective.”

Dick was nowhere near the body reader that Cassandra was, of course. Her first language was movement. But he _could_ entertain the hilarity of how every word that came from their youngest brother’s mouth was not just gold but completely, unironically, genuinely hysterical.

“I don’t have a palate for sweets, but I don’t find them detestable. I have shown my self restraint in many areas, you should simply _trust_ my judgement, Grayson, and let me decide if I’m ready for cake or not.”  


Dick had to cover his face to hide the giggle that erupted from his throat.

Cassandra didn’t care at all, though, and immediately wrapped her arms around Damian and laughed into his hair. 

“CAIN, I SWEAR–”  


“Never change, littlest brother,” Cass breathed against Damian’s skin as she pet his spiky hair. “Never change.”  



	21. Time Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boostle. Ted's real tired of your time travel, Booster

Ted wondered just how many products Michael had to put in his hair for that level of unnatural stiffness. It felt more like he was digging his fingers through straw rather than human hair. Though, in a way, that made it easier to pull, and made that yelp from Booster all the more satisfying.

“Ow! Jesus, Ted!”  


Booster bettered his grip on the door frame of the Bug and with the unhelpful helpful hand of his best friend, was able to finally pull himself the rest of the way in. 

“The human hair is not a good way to pull one into a moving, flying vehicle, Blue Beetle,” Skeets commented as he hovered over Ted’s shoulder.  


The hero actually _from_ the current timeline shrugged. “Consider it my subtle commentary on how Booster got himself in this situation – head first and with no use for his brains.”

“Aw, Ted, you really _do_ think I have brains,” Booster countered, breathing heavily before turning around and kicking the door button, closing the Bug.   


Ted crossed his arms and wrinkled his nose at his friend. “Alright, now that the fun’s over, I can comfortably do this: _Michael what the hell are you doing?”_

“Surviving?” Booster returned, blinking a little cluelessly as he tipped his head to the side. “Geeze Louise, Ted. You got a problem with that?”  


“I do when I know I just left you on my couch twenty minutes ago. ‘You’ have the flu this week,” Ted snapped, then he poked a finger at the hovering Skeets. “And that’s several models removed from the Skeets at home.”  


“He is aware of the differences, Booster,” Skeets alerted the time traveler on the floor.   


“Gee, thanks for the update, Skeets. Anything else you need to tell me?”  


“I do!” Ted said, raising his hand before dropping it back down angrily. “Are you the reason there’s a subspace, time eating octopus trying to destroy the city?”  


Booster pulled a hand to his mouth, frowning as he thought about his options. “I’m going to go with _no_ , though I also fully admit that that’s a hell of a coincidence.” His eyes lightened up and he turned his head to Skeets. “Oh, wait, Skeets–”

“Yes. It _is_ the same octopus that followed you and Rip Hunter to 1602,” the robot reported.  


“Ah, well crap. Okay, Ted. You can blame me for this one.”  


Ted groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I’m more worried that there’s apparently _multiple_ octopi in our future.”


	22. Different Worlds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scandal/Kay/Liana. She gets overwhelmed with her wives sometimes

Coming in for groceries to see an apartment more akin to a bloodbath than a condo should not have been average for her at that point in her life. In fact, it _still_ wasn’t, but as much as her heart raced and her eyes dashed around in search for her wives, Liana had the nagging voice in her mind that was worried more about the newly replaced rug.

Sure enough, Scandal sat on the couch, legs entwined with Kay’s massive form, as she cleaned a blade. Kay, despite scratches and an actively bleeding nose, seemed far more interested in picking at her torn blouse than she was in tending to her clothing.

Liana put her face in her hands and held back on a gut busting scream.   


“Oh, dear, you’re home,” Scandal said almost apathetically as she unlocked with Kay and moved to get up. “We were going to clean this up before your shift ended–”

Holding up her hand and shaking her head, Liana began moving toward the bedroom. “I… not now, Scandal. Please. Let me wash up before I handle this…”

Kay was looking over her shoulder at Liana, her look mostly unreadable, but Liana didn’t have the strength of spirit regained yet to truly deal with what the look could mean.   


Neither Scandal or Kay made any moves to follow her as Liana crossed the condo, passed every happy, smiling picture on the walls, and escaped to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her as quickly as possible.   


Her stomach felt weak and her vision blurry as Liana slid down the door, cupping her hands around her eyes and began sobbing.   


Being married to Scandal and Kay had been the happiest years of her life, but the strain of their different worlds was just too much at times. Liana was a stripper, and as scandalous as that could have seemed and as much danger as she sometimes found herself falling into, it was nothing compared to the supernatural, the superheroic, the _divine_ troubles that knocked on every door her wives answered.   


They were constantly either bringing death to others or having it brought down to them, and that frightened Liana beyond words.   


She sobbed, ignoring the knocking of the door against her back.   


“Puppet?” Kay called. “You haven’t told us what is wrong–”

“It isn’t you,” Liana sniffed. “Please, Kay… just… leave me alone. I need to think. I’m… I’m sick of being _useless.”_

Something but terrible and wonderful about Kay when compared to Scandal was her willingness to do just as was asked of her. Especially when Liana said she needed space.   


Kay’s heavy step fall moved away from the door and Liana curled more into her ball, feeling uncertain of everything she loved.   



	23. Who's Batman?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick & Jason. Jason has strong opinions on Batman and an even stronger sense of pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from ephemeraltea

Jason had always had a problem with Dick becoming Batman – to him _ascending_ once more to places that Jason knew he could never follow or replicate.   


He tried.   


He tried to be the Robin Dick was to the detriment of ever finding his own footing the way following Robins would. He tried to be a new king of Nightwing in Dick’s absence but found himself failing on account of the bitterness and anger that plagued his time in the suit.   


And for each one of those, even if it hadn’t been Dick making decisions or commanding the wheel, Jason found himself hating the man he once called brother a bit, resented him for continuing to climb where Jason kept falling.   


Watching Dick become Batman in the aftermath of losing what grip on his vengeance Jason had left nearly destroyed him, made him completely sick inside. Batman should have died with Bruce, proven Jason’s point more than any elaborate scheme of the Red Hood ever could.

But Dick didn’t let it die. And he didn’t do a bad job at it either.   


So when their paths crossed yet again – when they did so while one of Jason’s own operations went south and he found himself caught in the crossfire – he found himself clenching and snarling at the visage of Batman approaching him.   


“Jason,” Dick said, shocked and concerned in ways that were certainly more _Dick_ than the Batman charade he had put on for so long. “That looks bad. Hold on – I’m coming, just sit tight!”

The an turned back, grabbing for medical supplies from his belt. A rookie mistake, really.   


By the time he’d look back, Jason would have used the last of his energy to make an escape – fling himself through the nearest window and begin his way out the alley, sticking to the shadows and the sewers to follow.   


He could die doing a lot of things, but one he wouldn’t stand for would be die finding out that he was wrong about Batman. Instead he’d just take care of things himself, and hope he could treat the wounds half as well with an unsteady hand.   



	24. Chasing Fevers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boostle. Ted's a bit sick

Michael seemed hesitant at the door, bag of sugary disgusting groceries with his face on them in his arms, and it honestly almost seemed adorable how young he looked when he got like this. When he dropped all bravado and it was written all over his face that he didn’t know what to do.   


“Ted, are… Are you okay?” he asked, crossing into the living room and putting the bags down on the end table. “You _still_ haven’t gotten off the couch.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Ted muttered back with a pained smile. He groaned and put his pillow back over top of his face. “I’ve got this. Just a few more hours and I’ll wake up good as new.”

“Considering your current temperature of one hundred two and point five degrees, Mister Kord, I highly doubt that,” Skeets announced.

Immediately, Michael went stock still, eyes widening. “How is that possible!? Oh my god! We have to get him to a hospital–”

“I was giving the temperature in Fahrenheit as is the common measurement for twenty-first century America, Booster,” Skeets explained. “In Celsius his temperature is thirty-nine and point one seven.”

“What, they still use Fahrenheit? Yeesh,” Michael said, still dropping to his knees by the couch and lifting up Ted’s pillow. “That’s still a pretty sick temperature, Ted. Maybe we _should_ take you to the hospital. I mean… your heart–”

“It’s not my heart,” Ted sighed in frustration. “Not everything that’s wrong with me automatically comes back to my heart, Mikey.”

Crossing his arms on the cushion and resting his chin on them, Michael frowned a bit. “Yeah… yeah, I know, Ted. I’m just… worried. You should be flattered.”

“I’m not flattered, just more sick,” Ted joked. “I’m going to guess you don’t have any terrible off-brand Gold Juice or something that I could substitute for OJ in there, do you?”

A show stealing grin broadened across Michael’s face and he reached back into the bag, pulling out an off brand, watery looking orange juice with Booster’s face plastered on it.

Ted rolled his eyes and sighed. “Should have known.”  



	25. A Public Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CassBrenda. Brenda's trying to run her shop when her favorite customer brings in more than she can bargain for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from the-owlknight

Her mind had been elsewhere that morning. There were a lot of things to be concerned with, after all – she had a business to run, there were some unfortunate gang activities in the neighborhood making the rounds on the news, she had spent nearly the whole day before on the phone with her regular supplier trying to get word on why her last shipment still wasn’t in.

There were a great many things throughout the last week that were colliding on her that morning, and it was all too easy to hardly give Cassandra a once over when the regular entered for breakfast.   


“I’ll put it right up, Cass,” Brenda called with a wave of her hand before turning back to the cash register and counting up the week’s earnings. It was due for the bank before noon.

The characteristic small wave and the baggy sweats Cass seemed to wear half the time regardless were enough to not draw Brenda’s attention to the weak shuffle of Cass’ feat, the way one arm hung loosely by the other woman’s side as she pulled out her chair, or how seconds into sitting down, Cassandra seemed to be out like a light.

Brenda had her suspicions about Cass’ night activities, but other than her own clues building up had no word from Cass herself on whether she was an escort or not. Brenda honestly didn’t care what Cass did to earn the odd amount of money she always seemed to have – rolled fifties or nothing, always cash, always coincidentally after she had met up with some men either in the shop or outside of it. One time Brenda had seen a Blüdhaven police officer come in to meet Cass. If Brenda had purposefully left all sweetener out of his tea she would have never owned up to it.

The only thing that Cass’ personal life concerned her with was that she _worried_ about Cass. The girl was the sweetest, gentlest person Brenda had come to know in Blüdhaven, had truly enjoyed getting to know her and just wanted to girl to be happy.

Even on that busy morning, with everything in the world seeming to collide at once, Brenda almost subconsciously fixed Cass’ favorite breakfast combo – an odd assortment of bagel, eggs, sausage, and Assam tea.   


The sausage and eggs were almost done when finally one of Brenda’s employees stepped up to her, grabbing her elbow.

“What?” she asked, looking over from the bills in her hands.

The college kid frowned and pointed toward the table where Cass was slumped over slightly. A pool of red was at her feet.   


“Oh, my god–” Brenda gasped, throwing her apron off as she raced around the counter and made her way to the table. She looked over her shoulder and ordered, “Call an ambulance!”   


By the time Brenda dropped on her knees at Cass’ feet, she could see the drained pallor of Cass’ cheeks, see how buddy and disheveled her face was, or how her sweats looked half thrown on.   


When the girl opened her eyes, she didn’t seem surprised to have Brenda in her face but more relieved. “Hi,” she greeted.   


“Shit, are you bleeding?” Brenda asked, putting one firm hand on Cass’ shoulder as she used the other to lift up her sweatshirt, to check on the obvious damage to Cass’ side. “Oh, my god. How’d this happen?”

“Zeiss,” Cass sighed, as if it meant something. Her eyes narrowed a bit. “Penguin.”

Brenda tried to stay out of gang politics, but even she knew what the Penguin was since the gangs had swarmed to Blüdhaven with Gotham a war zone and the ‘Haven without its former master of crime to keep them all out.   


It made Brenda feel sick. “Is this something to do with your night job?”

Cass laughed, a tight breathy laugh that looked like it hurt. “Yeah,” she answered. “I’m okay–”

“Like hell you are! I’m getting you to a hospital!” Brenda snapped, getting ready to stand up when she felt Cass grip her wrist. Somehow, even with the blood loss, the girl had a vice grip. Brenda looked down, meeting her bright brown eyes.   


“Please… don’t go,” Cass whispered. “I’m fine. Just… wanted to see you today.”

Brenda looked back, feeling her heart skip. She lowered back to her knees. “I’m glad you did,” Brenda replied softly. “I wanted to see you, too.”  



	26. Did You Think I Forgot?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TimTam. Tim's observational skills must not be what Tam thought they were

The fact that Tim walked by the basket on his desk four times that day almost made it easy for Tam. She could _almost_ allow it to slide. But, at the end of the day, she had to know.

“Hey, Tim?”

The casually more disheveled junior CEO looked up from his computer, pen still balancing on his lip. He blinked almost owlishly at her. “Uh, yes?”   


She smiled as pleasantly as she could, straightening the papers in her hands, and nodded toward the basket of goodies and flowers on his desk. He followed her gaze but wasn’t exactly comprehending.   


“Do you _usually_ have baskets of treats on your desk?” she prodded further when it became obvious that he wasn’t even going to reach for them.   


“No,” he responded, clearing a path before dragging the basket over the desk surface. He peered in with genuine curiosity on his face, head tossing slightly to the side as he rummaged through the snacks and men’s fragrances.   


Tam was a patient woman so she filed her papers slowly again, pushed them aside, checked her watch, answered an email, and then returned to carefully observing Tim.   


He had in that time removed everything from the basket and was holding the basket itself up to the light, eyes narrowed in focus.

Tam couldn’t help but scowl.   


“Are you inspecting it for a bomb?” she asked incredulously.   


“Or a tracker,” he responded. “You never know–”

“ _I_ know,” she said thinly. “How do you like the things actually _in_ the basket?”

“Huh? They’re fine,” Tim said, lowering the basket. He looked at Tam seriously. “Wait, how do you know? Did you see who put this on my desk?”

“Oh, forget it,” Tam sighed, shaking her head and beginning to leave. “You’re so clueless for a detective, Timothy Drake-Wayne,” she bemoaned before opening the door to their shared office only to jump back slightly in surprise to see a large bouquet of flowers waiting. She turned back to look at Tim and saw him leaning back in his chair smiling.   



	27. Sisters are Good to Keep Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim & Cass. The explosion probably could have been smaller.

For once, Tim decided to be low key about waking from a daze. The explosion had been something else – he figured that with the stolen toxins and formulas from Poison Ivy the lab would have been dangerous, but the exact volume of the explosion had been more than a little shocking.

He was glad that the Powers Inc. branding was burning over the lab in a rather magnificent green display, though. It made watching for the first responders on the opposing rooftop a little more thrilling.

Gathering his senses a bit more, he realized he was leaned back against another body and it didn’t take much investigation or memory from before the blast to figure out who was there.   


Tim smirked over his shoulder, lazily looking at his sister as her eyes concentrated on the blaze.

“Thanks,” he grunted.   


When Cassandra moved, looking down at him, visible brow drawing in concern, Tim got a better look at her kevlar – it was a little cooked. The Bat symbol blazened across her chest was torn down to the white plaster protection underneath at parts. Her cape was mostly gone.   


But what caught Tim off guard was the bright red splatter across her her torso and face. Cass didn’t seem worse for wear, but there was more than enough evidence to the contrary.   


“Shit, are you bleeding?!” he demanded, trying to push up only to flinch back when his leg moved. He let out a cough as he choked down the rasp digging at his throat.   


He didn’t have to look to figure out what was going on.

Still, his sister sighed, petting his cowled head. “No,” she answered anyway.   


“Do you have a good idea of what’s in there?” he asked, peering reluctantly at the shrapnel sticking out of his thigh.   


“Stuff,” she said with a sigh. Her eyes turned back to the sky. “We’re… getting picked up soon. Already called.”

“You’re a good sister,” he laughed, beginning to feel tired again. “I’m glad to have you back.”

“I know,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Glad to be back. Keep you from getting killed.”

“You’re too kind.”  



	28. Extra Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate/Maggie. The Kane family is threatened, and Kate's going to get to the bottom of it.

When the threat had been first received by Catherine and the Colonel, Kate had immediately flocked to the case. Anger and resentment aside, family would _always_ be family, and the Kanes were forever under her protection, no matter who they were.   


She had spent hours in the base, scrounging research materials, examining all evidence. She had gone so far as to take complete scans of the entire mansion in order to recreate it digitally – she could see how far the glass carried by the intruders’ boots had gone and from what windowpane the glass had come from.   


The hours she spent did not go unnoticed and it was a cool comfort to turn and see Maggie entering with two steaming cups of coffee.

Kate smirked, reaching out for the one on the left. “You’re too sweet.”

“I’ve also been on the phone for four hours,” Maggie announced, stepping up behind Kate’s chair and looking to the room. “Hm. Think of what the GCPD could do with this level of ‘tech.”

“As I recall it, my cousin offered them as much for free last year,” Kate said pointedly, bringing her mug to her lips. “The general consensus beyond Gordon was to refuse it.”

“It looked bad,” Maggie clarified. “He shouldn’t have tried to hand over the keys at the same time he publicly sponsored Batman International, or whatever that dumb thing that almost destroyed the city was.”

Kate almost commented on how ‘dumb thing that almost destroyed the city’ described far too many things that Bruce Wayne did, but she left it be in favor of sizing up Maggie. She had just noticed something over her fiance’s shoulder.

“Did you just get back from Central?” Kate asked.

“No, I’ve been upstairs,” Maggie responded looking down at her.   


“And you just _now_ took off your vest?”   


Maggie shook her head again. “This is a cup larger than me, my love,” Maggie announced, pulling the disgusting thing from her shoulder and holding it up for Kate to see in full detail. “This is a loaner.”

Kate narrowed her eyes, drank more deeply from the mug, and then set it to the side. “Why do you have a loaner bullet proof vest in my size?”

“Don’t be obtuse, it’s _for_ you,” Maggie said, tossing it onto Kate’s lap. “Or did you miss the part of the threat where the attackers seemed pretty adamant about wiping out _all_ of the Kane family?”

She didn’t even hesitate to drop the vest to the floor. “I’m not wearing that,” she said simply. “I’m Batwoman.”

“And _I’m_ about to be your wife, Kate,” Maggie said, lowering to get in Kate’s face. “Put it on.” She kissed Kate’s cheek and walked back out, apparently feeling very self-satisfied.

Kate glared after her, then looked to the vest. “Ugh.”  



	29. Long Time, No See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CassKon. Kon decides to drop in on a friend and gets more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from batfamspam on tumblr!

It was a rare Saturday night where he had nothing to do. 

Usually there was Titans Tower, but since they had moved headquarters and Beast Boy and Raven had taken to mentoring a younger set of upcoming Titans, Kon had felt strangely old in his “sixteen” year-old skin. He avoided that when he could.

And likewise, with Lori and Simon participating in the ridiculous student government summit in Topeka, Kon _certainly_ wasn’t going to waste another Saturday night tossing hay bails at Krypto in Smallville. 

If Kon was going to do anything on a Saturday, he was going to annoy one of the Bats. At the very least it would give him some mild amusement. 

He didn’t think anything of it -- he had access to their more popular hideouts across the city due to Tim’s identifying system, and considering he _hadn’t_ pranked Tim in a few weeks, he hadn’t been locked out yet. 

It was easy to get comfortable and prop up his feet in wait.

A few hours passed, but it wasn’t anything huge for Bats. It was only when it was on just the other side of dawn that Kon began to suspect that he might have picked the wrong hideout to stalk when the floor opened up just beyond the television center. 

“How much money do you guys waste on this stuff, jeeze,” Kon began to drawl, pushing up from the couch before seeing a bloody black glove lift up from the void in the floor and grip the outside edges with a lot of pulsing difficulty. 

That wasn’t Tim’s hand. 

For a moment, Kon felt his heart lurch forward. He hadn’t seen her in so long, but he’d recognize one of his first real kisses anywhere. And it didn’t hurt that Cassandra had traded in her full face mask for a domino. 

She grunted a bit, pulling herself to the floor’s level and sliding her back onto the tile. She laid back, her other hand on her torn side. She released a small sigh and then said, “Woo.”

As if she’d just come off an amusement park ride or something instead of pulled her bleeding body out from a ridiculous drop hole in the floor. (Given Gotham, Kon wasn’t sure she _hadn’t_ just gotten off a death trap on an amusement park ride.)

“Cass?” he asked, flying to her. “Oh, shit you’re really bleeding!”

Black Bat turned her head enough to give him a scrutinizing look, mouth pursing a bit. “You’re... not dead... anymore?”

Kon rubbed at the back of his head sheepishly. “Heh. Yeah. I guess it’s been a while, huh?”

She grunted, pushing herself back into a sitting position, and then smiled warmly at him. “Not soon enough,” she said softly.

As always, she moved quicker than he could participate and was soon wrapping her arms around his neck, not seeming to be mindful of getting blood on one of his twelve favorite shirts. 

“I missed you,” she sighed happily. “Thank you for being back.”

“Hey, same to you,” Kon smiled against her shoulder. “By the way. Still bleeding. You going to do something about that?”

“Mm. Maybe.” 


	30. Prank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass, Steph, and Harper have an interesting night on the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Someone fancies themselves a comedian!  
> from goodluckdetective

Harper knew that the new “Batman” wasn’t going to be a fan of them patrolling no matter what good they managed together, but in her defense she hadn’t been aware of the mob stuff that Stephanie had gotten herself involved in.

“Spoiler! What’s he talking about with this whole contaminating evidence crap?” she demanded as they ducked into another alley.   


Stephanie’s eyes turned to her immediately, a little wide but hardly surprised before she shrugged with one shoulder. “Oops.”

“Grr,” Harper vocalized as she smacked the side of her taser gun. It sparked uselessly in response. “I can’t believe he jammed it. _How the heck did he jam it–”_

They both skid to a halt when the giant, mechanized Batman landed with a crunch right in front of them. They backed up, clutching to their individual (and rather useless) weapons.   


Batman’s hands were on his hips – he put Harper in mind of a high school principle.

No wonder she didn’t care for him very much.   


“I am _not_ happy with running into you kids again,” he announced just before there was a flicker of a shadow behind him.

His sensors must have gone off because the mech spun around, already tossing a batarang into the air only for the small frame of the shadow to slip under his legs.   


Cassandra leaped up, propelling a kick into the suit’s less protected lower back, sending “Batman” tumbling forward, unbalanced until his thick boots found purchase yet again. By then, though, Cassandra was on his shoulders, throwing her elbow into the cleft lining the suit’s neck.

“Hey!” Harper shouted. When Cass looked her way, Harper threw the sparking taser to her and Cass immediately caught it and jammed it into the opened cleft of the suit.   


When the suited Batman yelled out, Cassandra leaped off of him, joining by Harper and Stephanie’s sides to watch as the newly unconscious Bat fell to the ground.   


Stephanie whistled, clapping a hand on Cass’ shoulder.   


Cass looked at her hand out. “Lips?” she asked.

“Huh? What this?” Stephanie asked, fishing into her belt and pulling out the lipstick from earlier that night as Harper walked forward to grab her tech off the ground.

Smirking, Cassandra took the lipstick and walked over to the “Batman.” She crouched, taking the lipstick lid off and then drew a crude smiley face on the smooth mask.

“Happy now?” she asked, looking back to her friends with a flicker in her eyes.

Stephanie let out a chortling snort, covering her mouth. “I’m so proud of you, your sense of humor has come so far,” she gleefully announced.

“Any more jokes from you two tonight and I’m going to trade sidekicks with the Riddler,” Harper grouched.   


“We are _so_ not your sidekicks, we’re an autonomous collective,” Steph argued as they walked back the way they entered the alley.   



	31. Apparition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra sees what she can only describe as a ghost from her forgotten past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Someone is met by the spirit of a person or creature they know to be long dead…

Stephanie was a good guide around Gotham. Cassandra had walked the streets of the city many times and had grown a familiarity even beyond it somehow (she could not explain that sens of familiarity to her friends, and she knew that it was, above all else, rather suspicious that someone so new could seem like she had been there all along). But the daylight, the _people_ of Gotham were not something she shared that familiarity with.   


That was much more of Stephanie’s thing, and she navigated Cassandra through the ins and outs of the public with near startling ease.   


Taking Steph’s advice, following her lead, being her friend, they were things that Cass felt were right. She enjoyed them, and she enjoyed that rare look where Steph’s own defenses dropped and it was apparent that she felt the same connection.

So when Stephanie suggested ending their night patrol full of combating crime and solving mysteries like the super sleuths they were going to prove to Batman that they were, Cassandra enthusiastically nodded and followed.

It was probably a poor decision, in the eyes of the more veteran Bats (were they all, though? Cass sometimes felt she had been there just as long or longer than most of them), that they arrived to a public coffee shop with nothing hiding their stinky, torn, and very noticeable super suits than the long coats Stephanie had grabbed from one of her hiding spots across the East End. But it was okay. There was something about Stephanie and her that seemed to ride that line all too well.

They had never been caught before, and Cass intended to keep it that way.

And it was because of that extra guard that the familiarity of the tile, the layout of the coffee shop, the curiously sweet smell of the brewing teas just on the other side of the coffee grinder didn’t seem too easy to ignore.

And it was why it was so shocking, so heart racing, when the red head with glasses and a few tattoos came to their table to serve, that Cass felt her heart squeeze.

The barista smirked, lopsided grin not detracting from the flippant way she clicked her pen at them. “I’m sorry,” the woman laughed. “Not used to tattoos?”

Cassandra’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t say the name on the tip of her tongue.

“Sorry, she’s new to town,” Stephanie excused. “We might still need a minute.”

The red-head shrugged and nodded before walking to another customer’s table. Cassandra watched, mouth dry and heart threatening to beat straight out of her chest.

“What’s the matter with you?” Stephanie asked, crossed between sarcasm and concern in that way only Stephanie could pull. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.   


Not sure how to answer, Cass looked to her lap.   


Perhaps she had.  



	32. Cemetery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Lois and Lana] Lois isn't expecting anyone else to be visiting that day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Someone pays a visit to a resting place of the dead.  
> from mistressgrey-posts

Lois told herself that she wasn’t expecting someone else there at all, but she was never all that good at lying to herself.   


She looked at the headstone, considered her options, but knew more than anything that, at the end of the day, she was doing this for Clark. And she would do almost anything for Clark.

Tightening her scarf and sighing into the void, Lois went forward.   


If she tried very hard she could _almost_ pretend that Lana’s refusal to even look at her as she came up didn’t annoy the piss out of her.   


“Bitter cold today,” Lois said as she stopped just at Lana’s side, looking down to the grave.   


“It’s not _that_ cold,” Lana said softly, eyes soft. “Not for this time of year.”

“Guess I’m just a city slicker then,” Lois responded, folding her arms as she looked down.   


“You are,” Lana agreed, still not bothering to look Lois’ way.   


Shaking her head, Lois elected to turn her attention back to the marker, read over the engraving – _Jonathan Kent: Loving Husband, Father, and Friend –_ and lowered herself beside it, placing the flowers she’d picked up on the drive over.   


When she stood back up, she looked over Lana just to find her face stricken with tears.   


“I’m sorry,” Lois said softly. “I know he was like a father to you.”

“He was the best man I ever met,” Lana said, voice too soft and too quiet for a woman known to rule entire industries with an iron fist. “Right after Clark.”

“They were a lot alike,” Lois agreed, looking back. “The world’s a better place thanks to Jonathan Kent.”

“Yeah,” Lana whispered. “Yeah, it is.”  



	33. Knocking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Cassandra Cain and Lois Lane] Lois hears something unusual in Wayne Tower and decides to investigate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Someone hears an odd sound and decides to investigate.

Investigating Wayne Tower should have probably caused more hesitation from Lois than it did. Regardless of how good of friends her husband might have been with Wayne, the fact remained that the man had bought the Daily Planet himself and was very much capable of making her life a living hell should he so desire.

Of course, Lois liked to think that if Wayne was really as smart as everyone liked to say he was, he would know that crossing this specific reporter was a very, _very_ dumb idea.

Going it alone without Clark or Jimmy was another stipulation that probably should have caused her more pause, but Lois wasn’t known for timidness, and as she came up on source of her distraction, the odd set of clicks and whines that only increased the further she went into the bowels of the building, she realized that she might have come a hair too late.

With her shoe, Lois nudged the nearest body.

“Black clad, high grade assault rifle, black ski masks,” she counted off as she looked the man over. She then glanced up to look to the other, similarly crumpled forms. “If I didn’t know better I’d say Wayne has himself a bit of an infestation. Wouldn’t you?”

The young woman in the shadows turned her head slightly at Lois, though whether or not she was really surprised by Lois having found her lurking spot so quickly remained to be seen.   


Smirking, Lois pulled out her recorder and waved it slightly. “I wouldn’t mind getting a few notes from if you don’t–”

She paused, turned and flung her purse with all her might at the head of the terrorist attempting to rise up from the floor. _That_ got the Bat’s attention more obviously.   


Lois walked over to the newly again unconscious man and picked up her purse, dropping one of the bricks out of it. “Anyway,” she continued, looking over her shoulder to see a very impressed teenager. “Mind if I get a quote?”  



	34. Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Bruce and Cass] Cass' first Halloween goes well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Two or more characters share a bunch of sweet snacks!

Cassandra fell back onto the couch with a thud, smirking at how pleased she could be with herself. She knew that Dick had pushed the angle of “Cass has never been trick-or-treating” on Damian in order to get their youngest brother to enjoy the holiday himself, but at the end of it all, Dick wasn’t wrong.   


And as far as new holiday traditions were concerned, Cass very much enjoyed this one.   


Her brothers had long since collapsed in their own corners of the Manor, which was fine by Cass. She could have fallen asleep right there in the den if it hadn’t been for the creak of the door.   


Bruce crossed the room quietly enough, but for them it was practically projecting his steps. It was the sort of quiet signs of gratitude between their odd bunch – letting someone else know you wanted them to hear you coming.   


He stopped, scooped up the pointed, though now slightly dented, black hat and continued on his way to the couch. Cass smirked as he dropped the witch’s hat on her face playfully.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, lifting up her legs so that Bruce could sit on the end, then lowering them back across his lap. “I was a witch.”

“I see that,” he responded. “Did you try your candy?”

“No,” she said, reaching over the edge of the couch to grab the bag brimming with treats. “Want some?”

“Candy’s not my favorite thing in the world,” he admitted, still reaching to grab a treat. “Was Damian good?”

“Yes,” Cass said immediately.

“And Tim?”

“Yes.”

“…Dick?”

She reached over and bapped the back of his head, earning a smirk from Bruce. “I know,” he laughed, peeling the wrapper of his candy. “You’re all pretty good. I’m proud of that.”

Cass smirked. “Good.”  



	35. Hayride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [BoP] Cassandra and the Birds go for a hayride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Two or more characters decide to take a hayride!

“Why?” Cassandra asked for what was probably the hundredth time.

“Because Barbara loves getting asked ‘why’ every four minutes,” Dinah joked, throwing Cass a nudge of her elbow.

“Because it’s fun,” Barbara responded, picking the hay out of her hair already. “This is so messy, we haven’t even started.”

Cass was still not convinced, but she appreciated Dinah rubbing her hair and making things “messier” for Barbara on purpose by tossing a few more straws of hay her way.   


Fortunately, Helena was always much better at putting things into a neater perspective. She leaned forward. “It’s a fall tradition,” Helena explained. “Hay lining carriages didn’t used to be all that uncommon – not just for people but for anything getting transported that needed to be kept from damage with how bumpy carriages can be. Like harvests. People getting to ride around on a cool fall night and enjoying the excess hay from crops is just evolved from that. Make sense?”

Appreciating the earnest explanation, Cass smiled, but she shook her head. “No? But… thank you?”

“It’s because it’s fun,” Barbara finally summarized.

“Yeah, so relax and enjoy it, kiddo,” Dinah offered.   



End file.
